


Rise

by Ballades



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, PWP, Smut, Unrepentant porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ballades/pseuds/Ballades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor finds Cullen in a certain state one morning, and decides to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kink meme.
> 
> Prompt: Because wild sex at night is great, but slow needy intense sex in the morning is just as good.

There are, Aeveth thinks, certain advantages to sleeping the way she does, curled on her side by Cullen, far enough not to crowd him, but close enough to hug his arm to her chest. Aeveth finds herself here in the mornings, with his upper arm nestled between her breasts, her lips on his shoulder, and her hand resting lazily between his legs. Certain advantages, yes; Cullen is a back sleeper, and it’s an easy thing to leave her hand there, cupped around him. Certain advantages, yes; this morning, he is hard.

Cullen is hard, he is beautifully hard. He is hard heat and hard ridges, and when Aeveth traces the outline of his erection through his loose linen trousers she can’t help but smile, smile because he’s so deliciously, amazingly hard; he is wide and long and thick, and she cannot wait to take advantage of it.

She draws a line from the base of his cock to the tip and back, does it again, settles into a route traced with her finger, back and forth, back and forth, over an expanse of rigid inches. Aeveth loves this, loves how familiar she is with his body, loves how perfect he is under her hand. He is just long enough for her, just wide enough to elicit that stretch she so craves, just thick enough to give her that sense of carnal fullness and satisfaction when he is inside her with his fingers digging into her hips.

Aeveth grins, finds she can’t stop. Oh, Maker, she has ideas. “Cullen,” Aeveth calls softly. “Cullen, wake up.”

He stirs with a groan, cracks open one eye to look at her.

“My love,” Aeveth says, “I seem to have found something. I wonder what it is?” She strokes a little faster now, applying more pressure. “What’s this? Did you get me a present, Cullen?”

“What?” He opens his other eye.

“I said, did you get me a present?” Aeveth giggles. “I just found it in my hand this morning. I have no idea how it got there or what it is. Can you help me?”

Cullen starts laughing, covering his eyes with a hand. “Maker’s breath, Aeveth!”

She gives him a mock-pout. “No, I really have no idea what to do with it. You aren’t going to help? I’ll just have to discover for myself.” Another grin and she disappears down under the covers, wiggling herself down so that she’s between his legs, spreading them apart, putting a palm on his length. She breathes in deeply, kisses him. “Maker, it’s so _hard,_ ” she teases, pulling on the string of his pants, hooking her fingers into the waistband, drawing the material down his hips. “Sweet Andraste, it’s so _big._ ”

Cullen’s still laughing as she maneuvers his trousers off and shoves them over to the side. There are no smallclothes to contend with; Aeveth gets back between his legs, slides thumbs up his cock, feeling soft, velvety skin over his splendid hardness. She takes him into her hand then, and he twitches. She kisses him, trails kisses from root to tip, wet kisses, loud kisses. “Cullen, what a wonderful gift,” she says, and her voice is muffled by the covers over her head. “Does it go in my mouth, love? Is that what it’s for? Can it go in my mouth?” Aeveth wets her lips, drags the tip of her tongue up his length.

Cullen is no longer laughing. Aeveth feels his fingers brush against her cheek, caressing it. She leans into his touch, closing her eyes to the darkness under the sheets. 

“Yes,” he answers her hoarsely. “It goes in your mouth.”

She listens for the hiss of his breath as she takes him in.

Aeveth takes him in, wraps her hands around him, tastes his salty-sweetness on her tongue and his fullness in her mouth. Cullen moans quietly, makes a sound on every stroke; he leaves his fingers on her cheek, following her movement as she pulls and pushes up and down. She squeezes him harder, works him with everything she knows about him, and he groans, his hand going to her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair.

She makes a little noise in her throat. Cullen responds wonderfully, the muscles of his rear tightening, forcing his hips up towards her face, sending his cock deeper into her mouth. Aeveth makes another noise but doesn’t stop; she can hear Cullen’s loud breaths rattling in and out of him like purrs, a rising crescendo that's all her doing. It's all her doing.

With a sudden, decisive movement, Cullen kicks the blankets away, stills her on him, and looks into her eyes.

Aeveth moans loudly, the noise stifled by the thickness of his cock in her mouth. Cullen bites his lip, his head lolling back, and clutches the bedsheet.

She waits three seconds before she moves her hands and mouth in concert. Cullen’s lips part; his voice is strained, pressing out of him. “ _Ahhhh,_ ” he sighs, a tortured sound. “Maker… enough, enough, I don't want...”

Obediently, Aeveth releases him. She wants to finish things for him, go back to his enticingly wet hardness so she can wring his orgasm into her mouth, but she knows Cullen has something in mind, and she’s curious as to what it is.

He sits up, and all Aeveth can see is the desire in his eyes. Wordless, Cullen pulls her to him and kisses her, wraps an arm around her and bears her back down into the bed, slides that same arm down until his fingers are between her legs. He continues to kiss her as he parts her gently and dips two fingers into her shocking, abundant wetness, keeps kissing her as he traces every last millimeter of her lower lips, his feather-light touch sending shudders through her.

Cullen circles her clit with two fingers, swallows her yelp into him, does it again. “Oh, oh, _oh_ ,” Aeveth tries to say, but Cullen won’t let her go, just drives her relentlessly towards her climax. His _fingers_ , Maker his _fingers_ , they’re magic when he presses them flat against her and rubs fast, magic when they slip into her, two, three at a time, magic when the pad of his thumb pushes against her clit, the pressure precisely calculated.

Aeveth comes, gasping into Cullen’s mouth, his lips crushing hers, devouring her cries.

He smirks at her once it’s over, and she realizes that she’s going to come again a split second before he makes her do it.

This time Cullen watches her, his gaze intense as she writhes and moans to every little movement of his fingers. Cullen watches her with that damnable smirk, drawing her climax out of her a second at a time, five seconds, ten seconds, thirty. He makes her gulp air and beg him _please, please, oh please,_ her chest heaving. “Please what?” he asks, but Aeveth doesn’t know, she's just saying things. Her lips are forming words like _yes, please, oh yes, more, Cullen, Maker,_ until she loses the ability to speak, trails off into an exploration of vowels - _ah, oh, ahhh, ohhh._

Cullen pulls his hand away from her when she’s spent, touches a slick forefinger to her lips. His eyes lock onto hers, and without blinking, he puts his finger into his mouth, and sucks.

 _Sweet fucking Maker,_ she thinks.

He kisses her, and she can taste herself on him, in him. After a moment he breaks off the kiss, pulls himself away, takes her shoulder in his hand, his palm completely covering the joint, and directs it down into the bed. Aeveth rolls herself over, following his instruction, and comes to a rest belly down. She turns her face to the side, catches Cullen’s eyes with a look, grins at him and bites the pillowcase. She’s done. Now it’s his turn.

“Brace yourself,” he tells her, moving behind her, taking her hips in his hands and lifting them up.

Aeveth grabs the pillows, shoves them underneath her unceremoniously, and grips the edge of the mattress. She feels the head of Cullen’s cock rub against her entrance, gathering slick for a moment before his hips move forward and he’s pushing into her tightness, parting her with his breadth bit by bit until his hipbones touch her ass.

She hears what might be a reverent, whispered swear.

They both hold still, breathing loudly, savoring the sensations of filling and being filled. On every inhale Aeveth can feel herself stretching around his girth; on every exhale she relaxes, conforming to him. Cullen groans, and Aeveth can hear him sucking air down as he keeps his hips pressed firmly into her. “Aeveth,” he grinds out, and Aeveth feels the warm touch of his chest on her back as he leans forward to kiss her shoulder blade, nip the curve of her shoulder. His hips twitch forward, experimentally.

Aeveth lets out a choked moan as she is stretched even wider.

Cullen draws back, thrusts forward, and she whines again. “I can’t, I have to,” Cullen growls, and Aeveth gets her hands against the headboard, palms and fingers splaying across the wood. She tilts her hips to change the angle, and shoves herself against him.

“ _Maker,_ ” Cullen says through gritted teeth. His hands tighten on her hips until she can feel each individual finger in her skin.

Aeveth smiles in anticipation.

Cullen starts a punishing rhythm, and it’s all Aeveth can do to not fall to pieces, to keep her hands up against the headboard and thrust back at him, matching his ferocity. It’s all she can do to even stay in her position because Cullen is doing _something_ to her. Done, she was supposed to be done, but she isn't, not by a long shot. How could she be, when Cullen is thrusting into her like this? Aeveth tenses, locking her arms to withstand him, and the headboard clacks against the wall, hits it with sharp wooden clicks, marking every hard pump of Cullen's hips. Aeveth wails quietly, unable to hold herself, drops to her chest, her head drooping down, hair cascading around her. Cullen groans at the angle change, gasps in a breath, lightning quick, covers her with himself, an arm wrapping around her waist like an iron band, the other shooting forward to grab the top of the headboard.

He thrusts shallowly into her, comes hard and quick, growling his orgasm out over her head. Aeveth finds herself climaxing too in a long series of shudders, golden, shivering warmth emanating from where her body is joined to Cullen’s. She moans, moans again, tears at the sheets, turns her forehead to the surface of the bed and lets Cullen’s power drive her down into the mattress. Down, down, again and again; she is rocked with him, bursting with him, at his mercy until he is finished and spent, juddering to a halt.

Cullen gathers her into his arms when his breath slows to somewhat normal, pulls her into a hug, lets her carefully down onto the bed. He is a welcome, heavy weight against her; she can sense how at ease he is. She feels the touch of his lips against her shoulder, the back of her neck, on her spine. “Darling,” he says, “I think I should be thanking _you_ for the present.”

Aeveth laughs, cranes her neck around to see him, slides herself out from under him, pulling one of his arms over herself. “But then I’d have to thank you for thanking me.” Bliss, oh bliss, she is boneless in his arms, full of warmth, satiated with him, glutted with him.

Another kiss, this time on her hair. “Then I’d have to thank you for thanking me for thanking you. It would be a never-ending cycle of thanking.”

“It’s such a burden, but it’s one I’m willing to shoulder, as long as you are.”

Cullen smiles, chuckles low in his throat. “I’m sure it won’t be too much of one, with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always appreciated, loves.


End file.
